Paul Gable: Whipped captive

"Stop it!"

Christina wiped several tears away from under her widened eyes as she backed away from the big man. Crossing both her arms, the young teenage blonde held up her torn halter. Thank God he hadn't torn off her panties!

"Stop or I'll call the police!"

Her voice seemed so tiny, barely audible over the continual roar of the Pacific's high surf behind her. The boardwalk's lights seemed so far away, so inaccessible to the young teenager. She was out here alone in the dark on this broad, deserted beach, alone with this maniac.

"Ohhhh!"

She stumbled, her feet sliding over the gravelly beach sand. Why had she come out this late in the evening for a walk alone? Were the problems she was having with her parents and with her boyfriend Phil worth this encounter? No, no, nothing was worth this terror. Oh, why hadn't she listened to the talk about the return of the biker gangs reappearing in Venice? They'd been gone for nearly ten years. But now that the Los Angeles police force had been called, the groups had drifted back.

"Come on, honey. Come on and gimme a smile. Man, I ain't gonna hurtcha."

The sand was growing firmer and more wet. She was reaching the surf line. Christina could feel the steady flow of salty wet spray on the backs of her legs and neck. She looked, from side to side. At least he was alone. She'd have to make a break for it.

"C'mon, baby. The boys back at the house are sure gonna like playin' with you. And I'll bet you're just the kinda girl who digs gang bangin'."

His words made the girl's flesh crawl. A gust of wind blew her long hair around into her face. Stifling a cry of disgust and terror, Christina stiffened her muscles, wheeled around and bolted for freedom.

"Help me, help meeee!" she cried, her hands flailing out in front of her. As her feet trudged through the sand, the blonde teen felt her halter slip lower, then finally fall to the ground. Her tits were free, jiggling and bouncing as the girl scrambled desperately for freedom. The lights seemed oh so far away!

"Little fuckin' cunt," the biker panted behind her, his boots kicking sprays of sand high in the air as he pursued her.

"Oh, help, help!" Christina cried, sucking in air through her flared nostrils. She couldn't move as quickly as she needed. The sand pulled at her legs, making every movement slow and painful. Behind her, she could hear the biker gaining. Gritting her teeth, the young woman poured every ounce of strength she had into escaping.

"Gotcha!"

The blonde teen screamed as the biker curled his fingers around several strands of her blonde hair and yanked down. Stars popped in front of her eyes as her head snapped back. Her arms jerking out to either side, Christina's knees buckled and she fell to the soft sand.

"Bet your cunt ain't been plowed much the way you been runnin' from me. Man, soon as I spotted you walkin' along the pier I knew you'd be fresh and hot," the biker said in between gasps.

"Let me alone! My father's got money. He'll pay you anything. Just don't touch me!" Christina screamed, rolling onto her belly as she covered her bare tits protectively.

The biker stopped for a moment, crouching over the whimpering teenager. He wiped his thick lips with the back of one hand and studied her thoughtfully.

"Money, eh?"

Christina twisted her head around and peered up. For the first time, she was able to see his face. The full moon peeped out from behind the broken thick cloud cover, silvering the area. He was wearing Levi's that apparently hadn't been washed in weeks, tucked into a well-worn pair of leather riding boots. Her eyes travelling upward, Christina noticed he had no shirt on, his hairy broad chest covered partially by a black leather jacket. His face was ruggedly handsome, framed by a pair of mutton chop sideburns flaring around into a bushy moustache that drooped over his upper lip. Pushed back over a crop of thick tangled black hair was a biker's leather cap. He was everything the Venice community feared was returning to the beach.

"Yes, he'll pay. Just let me go. I'll go home. You can follow me. I swear I'll…"

Her voice trailed off into a whisper when she saw his lips curling into a broader smile. She knew he had no intentions of letting her go. But this talk about money had set several thoughts going in his head. Christina bit her lower lip, sorry now she'd mentioned anything about her parents and their finances.

"We'll talk money later," the biker said thickly, his smile fading. Christina rolled onto one side and started crawling away. She could feel the sand working into the tight-fitting bikini bottoms. The biker was licking his lips like a hungry wolf, staring at her white shivering legs, her boyish hips, and those high-riding, gigantic tits Christina was trying to hide with both arms.

"Oh, oh," the girl moaned, feeling all hope disappear.

"I won't hurt you… too much," he said with a snarl.

The biker unbuckled his belt, pulling it from his pant loops while holding the large brass buckle tightly with one hand. He was going to hit her with it. Christina knew it. She'd heard about how some of those biker gangs worked over their women before fucking them. They liked watching a woman crawl beaten and bloody around their feet. They enjoyed inflicting pain and humiliation, degrading their victim before finally tormenting them with a painful rape.

"Stop!"

When she hesitated, the biker reached down and grabbed her hair. Christina screamed, wanting to knock away that hand causing her so much pain. But she was mindful of her tits. Somehow, she managed to keep her hands covering her jugs as the biker pulled and yanked at her long blonde hair.

"Ahhhhhhh!"

Christina thought he was going to snatch her bald. Her eyelids fluttered while more tears sprang out and streaked down her cheeks.

"I like a girl who's tough," the biker commented wryly, noticing the girl didn't shriek and bawl like so many others he and his buddies had cornered, beaten and fucked. He enjoyed this kind of resistance. It made the final humiliation all that much more enjoyable.

With a growl, he jerked her close, her mouth striking the side of his boot. Christina moaned, her lips splitting from the force of that move. She tasted blood. The biker laughed at her again, jerking his hand up once more, then moving away from the panting young woman.

"Animal!" she spat out, shrinking away from the muscular hulk in front of her. The girl's eyes focused on the broad leather belt still hanging from one hand. Was he only threatening her with it, or was he going to use it?

Christina tensed as she watched him raise one hand high above his head. The belt dangled like a snake, trembling, revealing the nervous excitement coursing through the young stud's body.

"Oh, don't, don't," she whispered, her voice trembling with terror. The biker smiled, snapping the belt with a loud pop inches from her face. Christina screamed, rolling away from the weapon, feeling the sand clinging to her sweat dampened flesh. Behind her she could hear the biker laughing loudly, cracking the belt inches from her body. She screamed and screamed, feeling the rush of air created by the snapping belt. But the young man was careful not to let the leather touch her body. He was enjoying this game of pursuit, watching the teenager crawl over the white sand, her strangled cries of terror modified by sobs and wails while her hands still pressed over her naked tits.

Tiring of the game, the biker dropped his belt and reached down with both hands, curling his strong fingers around her ankles.

"Ohhhhh!"

Christina moaned at this touch. Trapped!

"It's over, baby. Now you're gonna feel a real man fucking you," he muttered thickly.